Mary Woolley, a nimble and lofty scholar was named president of Mount Holyoke, in her late 30’s. One of the youngest of the early 1900’s. Intellect was her realm, her habitation, her jam. She earned her presence in the forum, on the strength of her mind. Like tap to the dancer, shade to the painter, moment to the photographer, for Mary Woolley her instant of revelation was who she was. Like the late poet prodigy Adrienne Rich, her dazzling, insolent mind was impossible to ignore. Cogent dialectic over ideology.

Woolley’s insistence that female students are scholars before hearthkeepers, defiant before submissive, upset too many donors and gatekeepers. Those who wielded influence and leverage fought a female university president who actually showed agency. Even Jeanette Marks (Mary’s life partner and lover) accuses her of expediency over conquest.

Playwright Bryna Turner’s Bull in a China Shop recognizes the astonishing achievements of Mary Wooley, an academic iconoclast who made remarkables changes in the way women were acknowledged and celebrated, not as some paradigm of femininity but strong, capable human beings. Throughout America and throughout Western Civilization. She may have gamed the system, she may have chosen her moments, but she wasn’t dishonest and she wasn’t devious.

Turner details the life of Mary Wooley (essentially a rebel and a rockstar) who also fights with her lover and companion, placates the whales, plays politics and rides the wave of cultural backlash. The characters of Bull in a China Shop are fractured. They’re very smart, but they mess up. They cheat, they sulk, they have fits, they throw themselves at teachers out of their league. You can’t live your life fully, if you’re afraid of embarrassing yourself. Turner shows heroism is attainable by the flawed. The broken.

Director Kels Ervi steers a formidable production:  a stage also library from an ivy-league university, hard core rock music, provocative and raucous, women who kiss and fight and grieve and run interference and get all itchy. A few of the memes may be coy, but that’s merely a distraction. Ervi fuses it like molten glass.

Second Thought Theatre presented Bull in a China Shop. It played April 1st through April  18th, 2023. 3400 Blackburn Street, Dallas, Texas 75219. Bryant Hall Campus. secondthoughtthesatre.com. 214897-3091.

Perhaps 30 minutes into The Producers you start to wonder, What is going on? Not that you get much time to reflect. You’re astonished by the chutzpah of this shamelessly funny musical comedy. The premise is simple. Erstwhile emperor of Broadway (Max Bialystock) hasn’t produced a hit in recent memory. His path intersects with Leo Bloom, the accountant sent to inspect the books. Leo casually observes that insurance guarantees he could make more money from a failed musical. And the first domino falls.

Max convinces Leo that dishonesty is their ticket to unimaginable wealth. A charming, voluptuous Swedish blonde named Ulla, appears to fulfill their secretarial and manly needs. Then they must seek out the playwright responsible for the world’s worst musical. His name is Franz Liebkind and the show is Springtime for Hitler. As if this weren’t bad enough, he insists they join him in a daft homage to der Fuhrer himself. Bloom keeps insisting that they’re in too deep, but they soldier on. They return to the office, relieved that Fritz finally signed off.

Written by Mel Brooks and adapted from his film of the same name, The Producers (The Musical) is still as gobsmacking and playfully blue nearly fifty years later. Outrageous can’t do it justice. Marginalized characters of every ethnicity, orientation, religion and nationality are skewered without mercy. No one is immune. That desperation motivates two Jewish friends to play ball with a Nazi, is just the beginning. The director Roger de Bris and his assistant are gay, as well as the other guys living in the mansion. All are ridiculously campy, even for satire. And this, I believe, is the key. It’s like those insanely gory Western films, so excessive you can’t take them seriously. But if you know the chemistry, it can work. Caricature has just enough accuracy to resonate, and just enough exaggeration to tickle.

The Producers (the Musical) is an odd mix of audacity and conviviality. Brooks has a natural gift for gags with giddy energy, yet deadpan. We’re stunned by the tasteless parade of jokes, but intuitively grasp that we are laughing together. It’s never built on cruelty or ideas like “the jokes on them”. The physician heals himself. The absurdity and silliness is off the charts. But the arrow scores a bullseye. Under the best of circumstances, comedy is incredibly difficult. How could Firehouse Theatre pull this insanity, this celebration of the ridiculous from their magician’s hat? And yet they do. Come see The Producers for the vivid, fizzy spectacle. Stay for the merciless helpings of hoke.

The Firehouse Theatre presents Mel Brooks’ musical adaption of The Producers, playing March 12th-29th, 2026. 2535 Valley View Lane, Farmers Branch, TX, United States, 75234. thefirehousetheatre.com (972) 620-3747

Kitchen Dog opened the season from their new venue with a revival of their erstwhile, nihilistic hit: Pompeii!! A sardonic, vaudevillian fusion of hi-jinks, banter, song, gags, slapstick, and end days. The shtick and savvy of those zany productions (back in the day) make for a snug fit. We find mirth in the irony that come with living in the world. I survive a car crash, but next day have a heart attack. Considering  context, the connection between misfortune and humor are deeply unsettling. But then, how do we mitigate a life fraught with vindictiveness and humiliation?

Pompeii!! opens with Sammy Mulligan, a political candidate/emcee who plays drums with the three-man band. Sammy and Jimmy Mulligan are brothers, and Sammy is always cracking gags at Jimmy’s expense. More snotty than amusing. Sammy has the barker’s knack for being loud, off-color, and manic. He sets the tone for cringe-worthy sketches of pathos and punchlines.

The bitter husband and his icy wife. She’s disgusted with his lack of prowess; the playground is strictly off-limits for him. Some of the acts go sideways. Inept technique, jokes that won’t land, confused cues. Skits or one-liners come from a place of xenophobia, racial hatred and religious intolerance. No marginalized human is immune. They’re all treated with veiled contempt.

The wheel of fortune spins. A constant reminder of the imminent volcano eruption. Parallels to the indifference of Nero and Alexander the Great are noted. The days of vaudeville and Pompeii before the catastrophe are intertwined. Urgent citizens sounding the alarm are ignored. Despite the distraction of entertainment, it barely conceals grief, anger, disillusionment and hopelessness. The drunk magician finally shows up. His prestidigitation is so lame it’s a stitch. Then it all turns. Seems the threat of annihilation is no match for everyday despair.

You hardly know where to start, describing the verve and velocity of these cunning, sharp, versatile players. There’s double-casting, and then THIS barely contained chaos. Each actor (except the emcee) plays four or five roles, with nearly instantaneous costume and attitude change. Here’s to: Max Hartman, Thiago X. Nascimento, Ian Ferguson, Aubrey Ferguson, Ivan Jones, Savannah Yasmine Elayyach, Tommy Stuart, Jeff Swearingen, Rowan Gilvie, Parker Gray and directors: Christopher Carlos and Tina Parker for this extravaganza of wretched regret and comic calamity

Kitchen Dog Theater presented Cameron Cobb, Max Hartman and Michael Federico’s Pompeii!! 4774 Algiers Street, Dallas, Texas 75207. kitchendogtheater.org. 214-953-1055.

 

Kitchen Dog opened the season from their new venue with a revival of their erstwhile, nihilistic hit: Pompeii!! A sardonic, vaudevillian fusion of hi-jinks, banter, song, gags, slapstick, and end days. The shtick and savvy of those zany productions (back in the day) make a snug fit. The connection between misfortune and humor, are deeply unsettling. We survive better delusion. But then, who wants a life fraught with vindictiveness and humiliation?

Pompeii!! opens with Sammy Mulligan, a political candidate/emcee who plays drums with the three-man band. Sammy and Jimmy Mulligan are brothers, and Sammy is always cracking gags at Jimmy’s expense. More snotty than amusing. Sammy has the barker’s knack for being loud, off-color, and manic. He sets the tone for cringe-worthy sketches of pathos and punchlines.

The bitter husband and his icy wife. She’s disgusted with his lack of prowess; the playground is strictly off-limits for him. Some of the acts go sideways. Inept technique, jokes that won’t land, confused cues. Skits or one-liners come from a place of xenophobia, racial hatred and religious intolerance. No marginalized human is immune. They’re all treated with veiled contempt. If that works for you.

The wheel of fortune spins. A constant reminder of the imminent volcano eruption. Parallels to the indifference of Nero and Alexander the Great are noted. The days of vaudeville and Pompeii before the catastrophe are intertwined. Urgent citizens sounding the alarm are ignored. Despite the distraction of entertainment, it barely conceals grief, anger, disillusionment and hopelessness. The drunk magician finally shows up. His prestidigitation is so lame it’s a stitch. Then it all turns. Seems the threat of annihilation is no match from everyday despair.

You hardly know where to start, describing the verve and velocity of these cunning, sharp, versatile players. There’s double-casting and then THIS barely contained chaos. Each actor (except the emcee) plays four or five roles, with nearly instantaneous costume and attitude change. Here’s to: Max Hartman, Thiago X. Nascimento, Ian Ferguson, Aubrey Ferguson, Ivan Jones, Savannah Yasmine Elayyach, Tommy Stuart, Jeff Swearingen, Rowan Gilvie, Parker Gray and directors: Christopher Carlos and Tina Parker for this extravaganza of wretched regret and comic calamity 

Kitchen Dog Theater presented Cameron Cobb, Max Hartman and Michael Federico’s Pompeii!! 4774 Algiers Street, Dallas, Texas 75207. kitchendogtheater.org. 214-953-1055.

Letitia Blacklock is the Lady of The House at Little Paddocks, in the village of Chipping Cleghorn. Bunny, Letitia’s childhood friend, lives there along with familial twins: Emma and Pip. Strangely enough, the local newspaper carries an item announcing a murder at their address, at exactly 6:30 PM. (Could it be Papa John’s?) Initially they dismiss this as a bad joke, but it attracts the attention of neighbors, friends, the intrigued and the curious. Expected, yet unexpectedly, the lights go out, at the precise moment. Two gunshots are heard, and the unsuccessful assassin’s been assassinated. Miss Marple happens to be staying at a Health Spa in an adjoining town. She and Inspector Craddock will resolve this baffling state of affairs.

Agatha Christie (in addition to numerous novels) has written several stage plays as well. Murder is Announced was adapted for the stage by Leslie Darbon. One of the pleasures of Christie’s narratives are the careful, involved backstories of each character. How they intersect with one another. Often it feels like the parlor game: Six Degrees of Separation. Charlie plays bingo with Sally who works with Velma who’s the niece of Wallace, etc. It might sometimes feel labyrinthine, but Christie makes it work. As we might suspect, each character could resort to chicanery. Here are appropriated identities, unseen characters as connective tissue, a relative nobody knew was dead, and the facility of social networking.

The cast, directors (Rachael Lindley and Lorna Woodford) and crew at The Richardson Theatre Centre, are in sync with Agatha Christie, and her cunning dramas. They deserve accolades for untying the knots alone. They seem to thrive on Christie’s absorbing mix of menace, oblique humor, and the serpent swallowing its own tail. Lindley and Woodford orchestrate text and performance better than The New York Philharmonic.

Standouts in this remarkable cast include: Robin Liesenfelt as the legendary Miss Marple, who could fall down a staircase, and not miss a single detail. Adam Koch as the opinionated, flirtatious Edmund Swettinham. Donna MacNamara as Letitia Blacklock, who must extinguish one fire, after another. Ivy Opdyke as the long-suffering, neurotic Bunny. And Jed Carr and Elise Stuart, as the squabbling, devious “twins.” A special nod to Kit Philips as the Anti-Communist, territorial cook: Mitzi. 

The Richardson Theatre Centre staged A Murder is Announced from: February 6th-March 1^st, 2026. 518 West Arapaho road, Suite113, Richardson, Texas, 75080. 972-699-1130

Directed and adapted by Mario Estep, Romeo & Julian is a queer take on the story of Romeo and Juliet, teenagers intoxicated by intense love. As I’m sure most of us remember, those years are fraught with dizzy sexual drive. Every problem is a zero sum game. Every issue a dream or nightmare. Every romance a matter of life and death. He captured animosity between hotheaded teenage boys, venting steam with violent, homoerotic impetus. Romeo’s closest buddy, Mercutio might be crushing on him. Mercutio has a knack for coarse humor. He mocks male brawling, and Julian’s nurse, implying lack of personal hygiene.

Estep’s drama is mostly true to text, with occasional liberties. Mother Lawrence (a drag queen) reassures Romeo with comfort and counsel. Some male characters are played by women. When Julian’s bullied and berated by Lord Capulet we wonder how many queer men replay that from their past. Julian swoons and camps, his loopy effervescence steals the show. Romeo & Julian weaves merriment, while preserving pathos and tragedy. When everything goes sideways, Romeo’s earlier plea: He that hath the steerage of my course. Direct my sail, feels grotesque. Cruelly ironic. Though he and Julian find a solution, they’re so consumed by fear of losing each other, they overreact.

Beacon Theatre’s (dedicated to queer content) production is at once convivial and absorbing. The performers dig deep: chewing scenery, reading some poor soul the riot act, flouncing or pouncing or lost in devastating grief. Their shine and effusion is both exhilarating and exhausting. The gaggle of queens have comic ingenuity: a mix of bawdy chatter, gossip, mama talk and showgirl glamour that will leave you in stitches. They talk us through the perils to come, and dunk on each other. How do they manage such bitchy verve, such cranky affect? Romeo & Julian wields the enigma and mystery of gender in all its shades.

The good folks at The Beacon Theatre were gracious enough to welcome me to the last performance of their inaugural show. Romeo & Julian was dazzling. It takes the myriad of this tragedy’s emotional landscape and hits all the notes. You can feel their need to include us in their enthusiasm. All in all Romeo & Julian is overwhelming, spectacular theatre.

The Beacon Theatre presented Romeo & Julian playing from February 12th-22nd, 2026, at The Cox (tehe) Playhouse, 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas, 75074. thebeacontheatretx@gmail.com.

Directed and adapted by Mario Estep, Romeo & Julian is a queer take on the story of Romeo and Juliet, teenagers intoxicated by intense love. As I’m sure most of us remember, those years are fraught with dizzy sexual drive. Every problem is a zero sum game. Every issue a dream or nightmare. Every romance a matter of life and death. He captured animosity between hotheaded teenage boys, venting steam with violent, homoerotic impetus. Romeo’s closest buddy, Mercutio might be crushing on him. Mercutio has a knack for coarse humor. He mocks male brawling, and Julian’s nurse, implying lack of personal hygiene.

Estep’s drama is mostly true to text, with occasional liberties. Mother Lawrence (a drag queen) reassures Romeo with comfort and counsel. Some male characters are played by women. When Julian’s bullied and berated by Lord Capulet we wonder how many queer men replay that from their past. Julian swoons and camps, his loopy effervescence steals the show. Romeo & Julian weaves merriment, while preserving pathos and tragedy. When everything goes sideways, Romeo’s earlier plea: He that hath the steerage of my course. Direct my sail, feels grotesque. Cruelly ironic. Though he and Julian find a solution, they’re so consumed by fear of losing each other, they overreact.

Beacon Theatre’s (dedicated to queer content) production is at once convivial and absorbing. The performers dig deep: chewing scenery, reading some poor soul the riot act, flouncing or pouncing or lost in devastating grief. Their shine and effusion is both exhilarating and exhausting. The gaggle of queens have comic ingenuity: a mix of bawdy chatter, gossip, mama talk and showgirl glamour that will leave you in stitches. They talk us through the perils to come, and dunk on each other. How do they manage such bitchy verve, such cranky affect? Romeo & Julian wields the enigma and mystery of gender in all its shades.

The good folks at The Beacon Theatre were gracious enough to welcome me to the last performance of their inaugural show. Romeo & Julian was dazzling. It takes the myriad of this tragedy’s emotional landscape and hits all the notes. You can feel their need to include us in their enthusiasm. All in all Romeo & Julian is overwhelming, spectacular theatre.

The Beacon Theatre presented Romeo & Julian playing from February 12th-22nd, 2026, at The Cox (tehe) Playhouse, 1517 H Avenue, Plano, Texas, 75074. thebeacontheatretx@gmail.com.

Tiffany lives in a quaint village with her dad (Aman) who’s a minister. They live and die by the harvest. Tiffany is fresh and beautiful, longing for a husband and children. She seems to be last on everybody’s dance card, and even her father’s insensitive to her need for romance and a spouse. Whether he doesn’t want her to leave, or he’s a schmuck, is unclear. He tends wildflowers and a shrine at the edge of a cliff. His best friend is a great stone, with arms and legs. The story seems to lean into religion more than spirituality, per se. Enter Yanno carrying mother on his back. She’s small and grumbles quite a lot. Yanno patiently reminds her of details that come and go. They have journeyed for a long, long stretch, to pay homage at the shrine. Neither Aman nor Mother are encouraging to their children. The moment Yanno and Tiffany cross paths, kismet smites like a hailstorm. So much in love.

There are no sharper craftsmen than Ochre House, when it comes to political satire. The play functions completely on its own, but the unspoken connection to catastrophic dystopia, never wanders too far. Blood Hammer Girl is obtuse, but then, the smoothest, subtlest social critique always does. Consider Arthur Miller’s The Crucible or David Rabe’s Sticks and Bones or Samuel Hunter’s The Whale. The story of the wee town with gleeful villagers and agrarian ritual interweaves with Draconian values. Punishment isn’t there to enforce the rules, it’s an opportunity for vindictiveness. Slackers are executed, so are folks that make too much noise, after curfew. There seems to be some coincidence in the three day grace period. Transgression only indulged for so long, then it’s Sayonara, baby.

As we watch, parallels emerge between Blood Hammer Girl and the notoriously grisly Grimm’s folktales. Straightforward narratives carry disturbing, terrifying life lessons. Don’t consort with wolves. Avoid candy houses. Chose unwisely and fall prey to torture. When the townsfolk dance their celebration, we notice there are also ghoulish, clown/goblins giggling. A kind of devious chorus. There’s plenty of absurd, innocuous humor, but by the end, it feels like a ruse. A hoax. Tiffany is seduced by flattery to consider the unthinkable. What Tiffany discovers in herself in the midst of prenuptial hi-jinks and familial frustration, falls and falls hard. Like the executioner’s axe.

Ochre House presents: Blood Hammer Girl, playing February 18th-March 7^th, 2026. 825 Exposition Street, Dallas, Texas. 214-826-6273. OchreHouseTheater.org

Benjamin Braddock has just finished college, earned his degree, and returned home. Downstairs his parents are throwing a party in his honor. We gather there are no guests Benjamin’s own age. Dad insists he demonstrate a new scuba diving suit for the party goers, but Benjamin’s not interested. He senses the celebration is less about his accomplishment than an excuse for the parents to cut loose and get inebriated. Pretentiousness seems to permeate the air and why would he have anything in common with these clueless dolts?

He elects to take a drive when he Mrs. Robinson wanders in, plastered. She flashes and puts the moves on him, but Benjamin, flustered, manages to evade her. The next day, he resolves to take a road trip (inspired by Jack Kerouac) ready to embrace whatever life brings. Unfortunately his travels amount only to misadventure, and he returns home, disillusioned and sad.

Terry Johnson’s stage adaptation of Charles Webbs novel and Buck Henry, Calder Willingham and Mike Nichol’s film of The Graduate, feeds on the zeitgeist of the 1960’s and Benjamin Braddock’s malaise. The older generation may be vapid and blind, but they’re chipper. Ben and Mr. Robinson share the weariness of a disappointing world, and a need for authenticity, however sketchy that pursuit might be.

It seems the perfect remedy for their anger and bitterness is an affair, where they can forget, forget, forget. Mrs. Robinson’s allure is directness and honesty. The problem is her cunning. She’s disingenuous. The world outside their hotel room would rather believe Ben’s depraved and Mrs. Robinson’s ridiculous accusations.

So The Graduate is an allegory on empty values and emptier values. The distinction between the truth and the actual. Mrs. Robinson’s contempt is useful till she needs to game the system. In the end genuine virtue seems to prevail, at least for the moment.

The novel not withstanding, Henry, Willingham and Nichol’s film is episodic, dark, cynical. Satire emerges from timing, reduction, and cynicism. WaterTower Theatre’s production is a unique slant on the content we find in the novel and film. It explores details neglected in the movie. Mrs. Robinson’s backstory, her relationship with her daughter, Elaine. The mob enraged by the wedding’s interruption. WTT relates the same plot, with broader comedy, more humanity, more forgiveness.

Many thanks to WTT for letting me attend, so late in the run.

WaterTower Theatre presented The Graduate, from January 20th-February 8^{th, 2026. 15650 Addison Road, Addison, Texas. 972-450-6232 watertowertheatre.org}